Expiation: The Goddess
by paxnirvana
Summary: Storm/Gambit. Post-Antarctica AU character piece. All parts posted.
1. The Goddess Awakens

Expiation: The Goddess Awakens by paxnirvana  Format for use with submitting fanfic. Expiation: The Goddess Awakens  by paxnirvana 

Rating: PG-13 

Author's Note: A little post-Antarctica AU wandering after Gambit runs into Storm and Shadowcat in Southeast Asia. Staying the night in Hong Kong rather than returning right away might have changed things. 4/5/01

Disclaimer: Marvel's. Though I have to say the whole 'Trial of Gambit' was one of the stupider stunts they've pulled, and I'd be happy to take Remy off their hands if they still feel the need to get rid of him so badly. No money made.

* * * * *
    
    Every night I burn
    Every night I call your name
    Every night I burn
    Every night I fall again

The Cure - "Burn" 

* * * * *

She had been afraid, at first, that the dark mutterings about him had been right. He'd taunted her, angered her, wounded her with his reckless uncaring - and his determination to thwart her mission. But in the end he'd returned the prize, despite the blow to his reputation, once more the bright charmer who had saved her life as a child those few short years ago. Busy years. Years that had been far kinder to her than to him.

For he'd found the love of his life and lost her.

Rogue hated him now - driven to near-madness by her inability to reconcile what she wanted him to be with the evidence from his own mind that made the reality of him so far from her perfect longings. So, weak girl that she was, she'd left him to die in Antarctica. Spurning him completely and finally, leaving him alone and ostensibly friendless, concealing the truth until it was too late for anyone else to save him.

She'd despised the sad child for that.

And he'd perished in Antarctica. Or so they'd thought. Then - miracle of miracles - persistant rumor placed him in Europe somewhere, engaged once again in his former career. Alive beyond all possibility.

Kitty had sensed the tension between them when they met at last, their competitor revealed; Gambit cool and remote, she formal and brittle with hidden guilt. The underlying menace and confusion and anger had escaped her and the young woman hadn't truly understood. She had only seen the charmer, despite the stories told of his great betrayal. A betrayal no less than Jean's, but more immediate. Were hundreds of deaths nearby somehow more important than billions across the galaxy? Or was it that he betrayed his own kind while the Phoenix simply slaughtered aliens? Were they so caught up in prejudices of their own after all?

He had saved the child Sarah, once he realized the Marauder's true purpose, nearly at the cost of his own life. As he'd saved her from the Shadow King. Yet the guilt would follow him his entire life.

She'd known he carried darkness within. They all did. Strength did not come without suffering. A sword was tempered in fire. He was skilled and easily the most deadly among them save for Wolverine. His life had been even harder than her own - since he had never found a way to escape the world, as she had in her goddesshood, a refuge from temptations. The world had ensnared him. Yet despite it all, he cared. How could he have known that his own heart's desire would choose to kill him?

For the bright core of his soul, the hidden caring in his heart, she would always love him. Deep in her heart, where no one, least of all he, could ever know. But she was the Goddess. The remote one. Inviolate. She did not love so mundanely, or so all believed. Still, underneath, she was just a woman.

She leaned on the ornate railing that edged the balcony of her suite at the top of the hotel clad only in a thin silk robe printed with ancient dragons, symbols of heaven, staring out at the cluttered skyline of Hong Kong. At the looming hills, the hectically busy harbor, the tight mass of humanity on the narrow streets below, all painted with a brilliant red-gold light as the sun neared the horizon. Her long white hair flowed freely around her shoulders. She wished, suddenly, that they had left that afternoon as they had originally planned, rather than choosing to remain here another night. Something like fate shimmered in the heat of the evening. A pivot-point that would forever after alter her life and the lives of everyone she knew. 

The wind picked up around her, responding to her disturbed thoughts, but the sky remained clear as the sun slowly sank into the west. She watched the approaching night in silence.

"Guess dis as good a time as any fo' dat talk, _neh padnat_?" His voice came from behind her. She didn't bother to protest his entry into her suite. Locks were useless against him.

"If you insist, my friend," she said, her hands winding together before her. She stared down at their slender lengths, her gaze unfocused as she concentrated on his approach, the knowledge that he was truly there, all thoughts of destiny altered lost. He made a strange sound, something between a snort of disbelief and a cry of pain.

"I still your frien' den, Ororo?" he asked quietly. She lifted her chin, her back stiffening as she turned to face him. He stood in the open French doors, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of black jeans, a dull red shirt matching the muted embers in his eyes. He wore no sunglasses and his long red-brown hair blew gently in the breeze, the last rays of the sun turning it to fire. His feet were bare. He'd come from his room across the hall straight to hers, silent as a thief in the night. She had no heart to laugh at her own analogy.

"I would not say so if it were otherwise, Remy," she said stiffly, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. His gaze met hers, hopeful yet still guarded and she was reminded again how young he was in body, yet how weary his eyes seemed. Too much witnessed. Too much regret. Too much pain. She took a step toward him and it was as if her motion had broken his control. He swept her up in his arms, burying his face against her neck, under her flowing hair, his arms hard and shaking.

"Needed you, _mon amie_," he muttered against her skin, his voice broken. "Where were you?"

Her arms closed fiercely around him in return, realizing for the first time that they were nearly of a height, he only slightly taller than she was. It felt good to hold his lean frame against hers - to feel his heat and warmth and the blood pounding wildly in his veins. To know he was alive. She hadn't realized until that instant how much she'd missed him, realizing only then how she'd prevented herself from thinking of him, grieving for him. One of her hands somehow found its way into his silky hair, pressing his head closer to her, stroking the cool strands tenderly. 

"Goddess, Remy, if I had only _known_ I would have torn the ice apart until I found you," she said, her own voice hoarse with pain and regret. "I believed you were with _her_." His arms clenched around her, then relaxed slightly. 

"_Non_, not wit' her any more, _mon amie_," he gasped as if the words were torn from him, his warm breath puffing against her. She felt the heat of his tears on her skin, but they swiftly faded.

They stood there in silence for a time, simply finding comfort in each other's embrace. Her hand continued to stroke his hair gently, soothingly. He trembled from time to time, as if remembering the frigid cold of Antarctica despite the heat of the night around them. She knew it was a chill of the soul, a deep wound to his caring heart. And she mentally cursed the girl-child who had wronged him so. Finally she could stand it no longer.

"Come, dear one," she said softly. He lifted his head, weary red-on-black eyes watching her with uncharacteristic apathy. The brief tears he had shed had seemed to harden him somehow rather than free him. Her heart stuttered and fell. Without another thought, she led him into her room, straight to the bed. She shed her robe while he watched her, his eyes still blank and empty. Then she pulled him down onto the bed with her, cradling him in her arms. 

He allowed it with a sigh, his red-brown hair spilling over her chest, his eyes closing as he pillowed his head on her bare breast. His clever hands settled around her waist, drawing her tightly to him. There was nothing sexual in it, simply the need for unconditional human contact. She dropped her hands to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them swiftly and tugging the red silk free with some cooperation. He settled back against her again with a deep sigh of contentment, skin on skin, feeling her pulse, her breath, her life under his cheek. He closed his eyes and savored the gift she gave him.

"T'ank you, _chere_," he whispered as he drifted into healing sleep.

She held him then, the whole night. Skin to skin. Heart to heart. Tears slipping slowly down her face. And it was hours later when she finally answered him, her voice less than a whisper or a breeze.

"You are welcome, my love."

- - fin - - 


	2. The Goddess Trembles

Expiation: The Goddess Trembles by paxnirvana  Format for use with submitting fanfic. Expiation: The Goddess Trembles  by paxnirvana 
    
    Rating: PG-13
    Pairing: Storm/Gambit
    Archive: Okay, but ask me first, please. Manners are good things.

Author's Note: A little post-Antarctica AU wandering after Gambit runs into Storm and Shadowcat again. A moment of compassion changes things forever. 4/26/01

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to Marvel. But they can send Remy my way any day.

* * * * *
    
    Every night I burn
    Every night I scream your name
    Every night I burn
    Every night the dream's the same

The Cure - "Burn" 

* * * * *

She woke alone at dawn, not terribly surprised by that discovery. There was no evidence that he'd even been there, save that her robe had been retrieved from the carpet and draped over a chair when she distinctly remembered letting it fall to the floor as she led him to her bed. Pale light filled the elegant and empty room. She shivered. Not from chill, but from some inner reason.

Still weary and hollow of heart, she rose to her feet, stretching her bare body like a cat, high and long. Her hair floated around her in an unruly cloud of white, her usually sleek style defeated by the humidity. She ran her hands through it impatiently then caught up her robe. Belting the smooth, cool silk tightly about her, she stepped out onto the balcony again, her gaze traveling to the rose and pale gold of the early morning sky. Unidentified birds wheeled high above and she was momentarily tempted to join them. A breeze stirred at the thought and she lifted her arms toward the open air.

"Woman flying draws attention, _mon amie_," his voice said from behind her.

She turned in surprise to find him not gone at all, but instead draped across a lounge chair in the shadowy far corner of the balcony, his red silk shirt hanging open off his shoulders to reveal his chest, the black jeans riding low on slim hips. He was watching her from under tumbled bangs. From even this distance she could see that his eyes looked a little less haunted, a little less weary.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked quietly. He lifted a long hand to brush the hair back from his eyes, leaning his forehead on his fingers when he was done. The small signs of physical exhaustion may have disappeared, but he still seemed weary, like a warrior angel who had endured too much. 

"Slept like a _bebe_," he shrugged lightly, watching her carefully. He was more relaxed in some ways and subtly tense in others. She crossed her arms over her chest and met his gaze calmly.

"I am glad."

"Don' look like you slept so well, _mon amie_," he said, concern crossing his face.

"I rested."

They stared searchingly at each other for a long moment, each looking for something, perhaps the answer to a question left unspoken in the night. Their usual ease was gone. A change brought about in the darkness while she protected his sleep with her own heart. Her one-time savior. Her teammate. Her friend. Now, maybe, none of those and all. His eyes glowed like embers in the shadows, hot and unrevealing. Her eyes were pools of blue, reflecting only the sky. Finally she lifted her chin, turned away, and moved slowly toward the railing, her thoughts uncharacteristically scattered so that she felt drawn to the elements that she could understand. The wind and sky. The morning was warming quickly. She could feel the energy of the sun building in the air, over the sea. There would be a thunderstorm here later in the day.

"What will you do now, Remy?" she asked quietly, her eyes slipping closed. Her heart was thundering in her chest. Why? She knew why. Fear. But her manner was calm, her posture relaxed. Simply the Goddess contemplating the dawn. 

"You asked me t' come back wit' you." Her eyes opened again at his words, to see the last fragile colors of dawn fade away into the harsh blue of full day. Like hope fading before reality.

"I did indeed, my friend."

Silence fell, taut and perilous. Something other than the potential for lightning stirred in the air. She heard him move, stand, and knew she heard him only because he made the noises deliberately. Her back stiffened. She didn't turn, staring blindly out at the awakening city far below, aware of him as never before. She could so easily imagine his approach, using knowledge gleaned from surreptitiously watching him over the years; the acrobatic grace of his movements, the easy flex of his limbs, the heavy sway of his deep auburn hair. 

He stopped just behind her. Close. So close that if she took half a step back, she would touch that lean chest. Her breath froze for an instant in her throat, contemplating taking that step. But she forced herself to take a steady breath instead; not too deep, nor too shallow. Normal.

"Den I will." 

Something brushed lightly through the hair near her shoulder but she didn't turn. Not a breeze. She would know if it was a breeze. His hand? Her pulse roared in her ears despite her attempts at control. Could he hear it? she wondered for a wild instant. 

"I'm ready t' go back now," he said, his voice the lazy, sultry murmur that she had heard him use before. But always on others. "Wit' you."

"Very well," she said, pleased that her voice was calm, her tone remote. "When Kitty awakens, we will all return to Westchester."

"_D'accord_." They were both behaving oddly, she knew, yet she was helpless to alter her mood. He stood behind her for an agonizing eternity; silent, watchful, waiting. She faced the sky, knowing it, understanding it's ways and needs far better than her own in that moment. Finally he moved away, again making just enough noise so she could track his motions. He paused in the open double doors.

"_Merci_, Ororo," he said, his voice heavy with emotion. "Las' night was da kindest t'ing anyone ever done f'r me. I won' forget."

He left the suite as silently as he had entered it the night before, only letting the door latch closed behind him with an audible click for her benefit. She stood frozen on the balcony for several more seconds, her heart pounding, her breath shortening to near sobs. Then she dropped her hands to the railing before her, leaning over it numbly as a wave of dizziness passed over her. Terror. Black, shaking terror. She bit her lip and stifled a cry of despair.

What would she do? One night had changed her forever, changed them forever. Her friend. He knew, somehow. How could she lead him? Live with him? Yet continue on as if nothing had happened? But had anything happened? No words had been exchanged, only the pulsing awareness. There was still so much to resolve, to understand - for them both. And he wasn't done with Rogue yet, no matter his words of the previous night. High above her the air chilled in response to her distress, drawing moisture from the humid air, gathering clouds that began to obscure the morning sun. 

Only when the light faded did she look up, broken from her painful introspection by larger concerns. The incipient storm was now building rapidly, triggered by her inadvertent low pressure zone of trauma. A few drops of rain splattered against her upturned face, her chest as she raised her hands high, her mental confusion easing as she concentrated on calming the weather. Rain, not tears.

And gratifyingly, the sky responded to her commands and the brewing storm faded away. But not so easily dispelled was the turmoil in her heart.

- - fin - -


	3. The Goddess Fallen

Expiation: The Goddess Fallen by paxnirvana  Format for use with submitting fanfic. Expiation: The Goddess Fallen  by paxnirvana 
    
    Rating: PG-13
    Pairing: Storm/Gambit
    Archive: Ask first. *shrug* It's only polite. . .

Author's Note: AU - After Antarctica, what will become of Storm and Gambit's friendship if a certain night happens? 5/8/01

Disclaimer: This is for entertainment only, no money being made except by the Mighty Marvel.

* * * * *
    
    Every night I burn
    Waiting for my only friend
    Every night I burn
    Waiting for the world to end

The Cure - "Burn" 

* * * * *

Ororo Munroe hummed softly to herself as she knelt in the neglected flower beds on the north side of the mansion. It was the side of the mansion closest to the trees, away from the lake and the basketball courts. Scarcely anyone came here except for her - and Wolverine of course, on his endless prowls. The day was mild and the sky clear, without her intervention, the early spring air still carrying a nip in the shade. She wore no uniform or other battle garb, but only worn pants and a tattered black T-shirt scavenged from . . . one of the men. Her mind shied away from thinking about which man. The shirt was soft and thin with age, faded with endless washings to more of a dark gray than black. It was her favorite to garden in. The thin cotton clung to her sweat-dampened body like a caress, bringing her a measure of contentment that she refused to examine. 

She had braided her long white hair on top of her head like a crown to keep it out of her way while she worked. It had been a long time since she'd had much time to spare for the mansion grounds. Long months and weeks of winter and anguish and battle. But spring, and a respite, had finally come. 

So, for hours she had been simply weeding and turning the ground. Reveling in the feel of the rich loamy soil on her hands, under her fingernails, streaking her skin. It was a hard, sweaty task that she set for herself. The earth was life and renewal and endless riches - if tended and cared for properly - and she felt her connection to it most keenly when she worked it like this. It was a satisfaction she craved. A simple, innocent one that served, never more than now, as a balm when her heart was troubled. And she had been troubled for so long, since the disaster of Antarctica. 

She sat up, crouched still on her knees, shaking the last thought away with determination. Her back was aching slightly from her long labor. She stretched up luxuriously toward the sky for a moment before resting her dirty hands on her thighs. Early pansies, delicate crocus and swaying daffodils thrust their bright faces toward the sun, risen high enough over the mansion now to infuse the beds with thin spring sunshine. The flowers didn't do as well on this side, but she so loved the cheerful, homey blooms that she'd planted them all about the grounds to brighten them in the spring, anxious for color and fragrance after the long New York winter. 

She gave a contented sigh as she viewed her work, summoning a microshower to water the freshly-turned beds and give the flowers a head start on the weeds. Holding her hands out to the small shower, she scrubbed the bulk of the dirt from them, letting it fall back onto the ground, returning it from whence it came. Water flew in a sparkling fall from her hands as she shook them before wiping them carefully on her pants to dry them. 

Then the faintest trace of cigarette smoke had her body stiffening, her heart stumbling as she turned her head to seek the source. 

"For shame, Remy," she said, raising an elegant brow in carefully controlled amusement when she found him lounging at the foot of a tree in the sun behind her. Soaking the early sunshine up like a great panther; a dark and dangerous creature of the night who had somehow been drawn into the day. Watching her in silence. "If I had known you were there, I would have enlisted your aid." 

"Why y' t'ink Remy not light up 'til now, _mon amie_?" he said with a wry smile, his night-dweller's eyes concealed behind sunglasses to protect them from the light. She could see the arch of one raised eyebrow above the dark frames as he waved a languid hand toward the flower beds. "Den he saw y' were finally done." 

"Well, there are always more beds to weed. . ." she trailed off with a mock frown. He gave a short bark of laughter - the only kind he ever indulged in anymore - and crushed out his barely-lit cigarette. With a graceful roll, he rose to his feet. Dressed similarly to her, in torn jeans and a dark T-shirt that hugged his chest like a second skin, he moved toward her with the slow prowling gait of the cat she'd mentally likened him to earlier. Her heart stuttered in her chest, then redoubled its beat. 

Memory of the morning in Hong Kong - though truthfully it was never far from her thoughts - came back to her in a rush; her blood throbbing in her ears, her throat, her wrists. It had been a week since their return to Westchester. A week of awkward, shamed silences and stilted conversation with the rest of the team. He had not moved back into the mansion, but chose instead to take up residence in the empty boathouse. The distance that placed between them simultaneously concerned and relieved her. But any consideration of the others, the situation faded away as he approached. 

He stopped beside her, standing closer than anyone else would, well within her personal space. Only he dared. Thief. Teammate. Friend. His proximity sent prickles of awareness over her skin The sunglasses hid his eyes from her, frustrating her. In silence, he reached down extending a hand. Her gaze fastened on it, seeing the long clever fingers, the strong wrists, the light dusting of red-brown hair on his arms. She swallowed hard, thinking about the delicate skill it took to pick locks, the extraordinary dexterity involved in fanning and handling cards that were then charged by a touch, the ferocious ease with which he wielded his bo staff. All with that hand. 

Her hesitation became obvious; heart pounding, blood throbbing urgently in her veins. "_Mon amie_?" His husky voice broke her reverie. It was an offer to help her stand up, that was all, she told herself firmly. She took his hand, feeling the burn of his skin against hers, and rose to her feet beside him. But she'd been on her knees too long, cutting off proper circulation. Her legs did not obey her. She stumbled, falling against him with a gasp of dismay. His arms closed securely around her, pressing her to his lean chest, steadying her with a hand to her waist, her back. Her own hands settled on his shoulders. 

"Easy, _chère_," he murmured automatically, his voice deep and soothing. Her face slowly lifted to his, her eyes freezing when they came level with his lips. Merciful Goddess, she could not make her gaze lift any further, she thought wildly, staring helplessly at his lush, clever mouth. The ironic twist that graced it slowly faded as she watched. She could feel the blood rising in her cheeks, the heat shaming her as she forced herself to look away, to look up and meet his gaze. He was watching her intently from behind dark lenses, his face curiously still. 

"Thank you, my friend," she said, forcing a pale shadow of her normal smile. 

A warm hand slid up her back and forward, settling on the tender curve where neck met shoulder, the thumb slipping easily into the hollow of her throat. Her breath caught on a gasp. His thumb moved back and forth gently, circling the delicate hollow, covering the throbbing pulse beneath the tender skin. She could feel his gaze on her through the glasses, expectation heavy in the air like the potential for lightning. 

"Why now, _chère_?" he asked softly, not asking about her apology, she knew. He had probably long-since sensed her mental confusion, the overwhelming physical response she struggled so hard to conceal. He was an accomplished charmer, a practiced seducer, so he would know. But he was also her dearest savior and friend. Goddess save her from her own folly if he could not return her feelings. 

She took a sharp breath. Being unable to see his eyes was maddening. Without another thought, she reached up and slipped his sunglasses off. Red-on-black eyes watched her warily, anguish and foreboding in their depths. Unable to stop herself, she laid her hand on his face, cupping his cheek. His demon's eyes fluttered briefly closed at her touch, blazing brighter when they opened again. 

"Because I did not realize the truth until I believed you gone," she said quietly, unable to prevaricate further in the face of his weary resignation. The hostility of the week endured had worn them both down. "That you were more to me than brother." 

He flinched at her words, his thumb stilling on her throat, but he did not pull away. "I'm not da right one for you, _chère_," he said softly, pausing to swallow hard before continuing. "Dere's been too many lies, too many truths." 

Anger boiled up inside her at the resignation in his tone. As if the hasty judgement of others had damaged something within him, something precious and vital. Her eyes flashed dangerously white. "That may be so, but do not presume to tell me my heart, Remy," she said ominously. A breeze began, ruffling his dark-red hair. "Reject me for your own reasons, not out of any misplaced sense of nobility. Do you not care for me?" 

Fear and regret and something perilously close to hope were mirrored in his eyes. Her hand trembled against his face as she waited for him to speak. Long moments passed. "Y' know I cherish you, 'Roro. But I can' risk it," he said, his expression falling, his eyes closing. "Y' nearly da last friend I've got." 

"Friend? And is that alone enough for you?" The words were said on a hissed breath through clenched teeth. The breeze strengthened around them, tugging at the braids on her head as if coaxing her bound hair to fly. 

"_Oui_." Anguish filled his simple reply. 

"Damn you, Remy. I never realized you were a _coward_," she said, her voice shaken. His eyes flashed open. His hand tightened involuntarily on her throat, his hard arm drew her closer as he glared down at her. A tremor passed through her and before he could retort, she leaned up and pressed her mouth to his. No hesitation. He responded instantly to the flash-heat of desire that blossomed between them. His lips parted for hers; his mouth just as hot and eager and alive as her own. He moaned deep in his throat, the sound more felt than heard, and his lean body shuddered. She slid her arms tightly around his neck, rejoicing in the heat and strength of him pressed to her length. 

Right, he felt so right in her arms. How had she failed to see this for so long? She shook the thoughts away, savoring the feel of him, the taste of him. Now was not the time to doubt. Now was the time to enjoy. And there was much to enjoy. Remy LeBeau could kiss like no other. 

After an eternity, he lifted his head, breathing heavily, his arms trembling about her. A disappointed sound escaped her. As her blue eyes fluttered slowly open, they met his haunted red-on-black. 

"Can' do dis, not t' _mon amie_," he said quietly. Then he pulled away. She let him go, her heart thundering, shattering. He would not meet her eyes again, his gaze lowered in something close to shame. "Dis t'ief's heart breakin' here wit' dese people, 'Roro. 'Xpected it. But I can' drag y' down too. It f'r da best. Da team . . .dey neva understand." 

"I do not care what the team thinks, Remy," she said, her voice tight with anger and loss. "I am a woman grown as well as a leader. I know my own heart. I do not require their approval of the man I love." 

He gasped at her words, the preternaturally agile thief stumbling in place. As if struck an unexpected blow. 

"Love?" he repeated, his gaze tortured. Hope and longing and guilt mixing into a dark pall. "Ororo, I a mess. Dere's t'ings I gotta figure out, amends t' make. I can'. . . " She took a quick step forward, reaching out and placing cool fingers over his lips, silencing him. The touch of them, touching him, sent shocks through her. How many times had she run her hand through his hair, slept curled in his arms when de-aged, set her hand on his shoulder without the slightest dismay? Yet this simple touch rocked her world. Now. After Antarctica. 

"Love is not a burden, Remy, but a gift," she said gently, her gaze softening. Her heart ached with agony; she would die before showing him. He had been devastated enough. She made a small, reassuring smile curve her lips. "I know all this, Remy. I know it is far too soon. But I had to speak my heart. You have been so lost lately . . . " 

Taking the half-step back towards her, he pulled her roughly into his arms, burying his face at the side of her neck. She held him close, giving all of her heart, her self through the contact much as she had the night in Hong Kong. 

"Ah, _mon amie_, neva been a frien' better t' dis ol' t'ief," he groaned, his arms holding her tightly, as if he hoped to somehow disguise the trembling in them. "Time, _chère_. We need time." 

"And time is what I will give you, my friend," she said, sighing deeply, content, for now, to hold her beloved thief at least a little while in her arms. 

- - fin - -


	4. The Goddess Weeps

Expiation: The Goddess Weeps by paxnirvana  Format for use with submitting fanfic. Expiation: The Goddess Weeps  by paxnirvana 
    
    Rating: PG-13
    Pairing: Storm/Gambit
    Archive: Okay, but ask me first, please. Manners.

Author's Note: A little post-Antarctica AU wandering after Gambit runs into Storm and Shadowcat in Southeast Asia. Staying the night in Hong Kong rather than returning right away might have changed things. 6/7/01 

Continuity note: [I worry more than Marvel does] According to the books, Gambit returned to the team in the fall - I've moved it to spring for artistic license. 

Disclaimer: Marvel's. Though I have to say the whole Trial of Gambit was one of the stupider stunts they've pulled, and I'd be happy to take Remy off their hands if they still feel the need to get rid of him so badly.

* * * * *
    
    Every night I burn
    Screamin' the animal scream
    Every night I burn
    Dreamin' the crow-black dream
    The Cure

* * * * *

His visit was not unexpected. She had seen them together already, Rogue and Gambit. And no one on the team was immune to the wary circling, the sharp regret, the lingering need that passed between them. Then had come the trip to Boston, just the two of them, where they had fought a strange mutant all while confronting each other for the first time since Antarctica. Neither had spoken any details of that trip, save to report on their odd opponent. From it had come the tentative accord between them: Rogue, apologetic and wistful; Remy, repentant and sad. Now, there were too many other distractions to worry them, to worry her. Duty. As leader and X-Man. The continued absence of their mentor, their benefactor Charles Xavier. In the morning, the team would split. She lowered her head, letting her silver hair fall about her face. Rogue and Gambit would come with her, and Piotr, to Tajikinistan to follow one of the strangely split signatures of Xavier. Kurt and Kitty, Logan and Marrow would go to San Francisco to follow the other. 

It was a logical distribution of talent, of course. Not exquisite self-punishment. Never. It was necessary. To watch them together. To see the reconciliation take place with her own eyes. To know beyond the faintest doubt that all hope was gone. Then, perhaps, she could accept. Let go. Move on. 

He entered her domain as silently as only he could, through an open skylight. The clear spring night was chill, but she didn't notice. Mere atmosphere couldn't compete with the coldness spreading inside her. She stood under another open skylight, bathed in the pale light of the moon, her heart pounding with dread. 

"Stormy?" he called hesitantly, pain clear in his voice. Pain he would not feel, if not for her selfishness. 

"There is no need, my friend," she spoke softly, trying to forestall the words, delay the moment. But he came to her side, standing just outside the square of moonlight, in the darkness he felt he deserved, catching her arm and turning her to face him. She allowed herself to be turned, wanting inside only to scream, to deny the pain. Again, it was happening to her again. The goddess spurned by both the maker and the thief. In the reflected light, his eyes were dark with regret, his elegant face tight with anguish. 

"No, please, Remy," she said, her heart breaking to see that look on his face. Caused by her folly. 

"I'm sorry, _padnat_," he said. Her hand swiftly rose and pressed against his lips, stopping his voice. He looked at her steadily over her hand; loyalty and friendship and the possibility of more clear in his gaze. To her surprise, she found that her hand was steady. The trembling was only inside then. 

"Do not be, my friend," she said huskily, allowing her hand to fall away from his face, to rest briefly over his heart. It was thundering wildly in his chest, but she refused to see it as hope. "I understand more than you believe." 

He looked down briefly, his red eyes flickering in the dimness. He took a quick breath. "Y' knew den?" 

"I would be foolish indeed if I did not. There is too much still between you for me to interfere. It would be the height of selfishness for me to deny you both this opportunity," her voice was soft in the night. The words fell between them like bars. To watch, to cherish, to dream, but never know. She forced a calm smile. 

He flinched back, his demon's eyes flashing closed on a wince of pain. Pain she should never have given him, another weight for his burdened soul to bear. His eyes opened again to meet her gaze in the moonlight, seeking something in their depths. But she knew her own eyes were already frozen from the chill inside her. They could show him nothing. He leaned toward her, setting his hands on her shoulders. She stiffened, but he bent over quickly, his warm lips brushing hers in the briefest of caresses, like the touch of a feather, a single snowflake, or a tear. He pulled away slowly, watching her the while. She remained silent and still, serene, but lost in the aching emptiness inside of her self. Finally, he let his hands fall away, taking a step back as well. 

"Don' ever give up, Ororo," he said, his expression strangely intent, his voice husky. Then he turned, ran with just a few long strides across the attic and bounded nimbly out the other skylight. She caught just the faintest sound of his landing, then nothing. The master thief passing into the night like a shadow or a dream. He was gone. And his departure left a gaping hole in her heart. 

"You cannot give up that which was never yours, my love," she whispered to the silent night, squeezing her eyes shut against the brightness of the moon. She felt within her the stirring of power, fueled by grief, by regret, by love. Invisible tendrils of energy flowed from her body like water. The air chilled further, changing, roiling. 

Far above her, high clouds gathered, precursors to a storm. Winds gathered about at her will, lifted, carried her swiftly into the air. To the clouds, the sky and the night, where only the moon could see her tears. 

- - to be continued - -


	5. The Goddess Exultant

Expiation: The Goddess Exultant by paxnirvana  Format for use with submitting fanfic. Expiation: The Goddess Exultant  by paxnirvana 
    
    Rating: PG-13
    Pairing: Storm/Gambit
    Archive: You betcha. Just ask first.

Author's Note: A little post-Antarctica AU wandering after Gambit runs into Storm and Shadowcat in Southeast Asia. Staying the night in Hong Kong rather than returning right away might have changed things between friends. But time marches on . . . and no one's busier than the X-Men. 

Continuity buffs: Includes extensive excerpts from X-Men 82 & 83 and other key issues in the "Hunt for Xavier" story-line. But events in those same issues are twisted oh so deviously to suit my purposes here - of course. 6/14/01 

Disclaimer: 100% Marvel's. [Though I still say the whole Trial of Gambit was one of the stupider stunts they've pulled, and I'd be happy to take Remy off their hands.] I certainly don't make anything off this.

* * * * *
    
    Every night I burn
    Every night I call your name
    Every night I burn
    Every night I fall again
    The Cure

* * * * *

Tajikistan. Their quest for Xavier led the four of them to the far northern end of the Himalayas. Remote. Cold. Desolate. A perilous high-alpine world perpetually entombed in cracked stone and harsh ice. 

As she was ice. Cool, remote, solid - the perfect leader. Storm: first and foremost and always. 

They found the hidden monastery, their goal, by fluke - Gambit's uncharacteristic foolishness in leaping onto Colossus's back at the edge of a precipice sending the two of them tumbling to certain doom if she and Rogue did not save them. Rogue opted to catch Piotr, leaving her to rescue Gambit with a flurry of hail that pounded the ice and snow into a soft landing place for him. She wondered if his foolishness was prompted by the fact that only he could feel the killing cold; she and Piotr and Rogue were all protected from it by their mutant powers. The cold a brutal reminder to him of Antarctica - but at least this time he was endowed with adequate survival gear and teammates determined to keep him alive. 

But, despite her insight, her inner agony for his obvious discomfort, she could only watch the mental games continue between Rogue and Gambit as they pressed on toward their goal across the bottom of the deep crevasse Gambit's folly had brought them to. Watch the girl play with her penitent suitor, apparently craving the display, the conflict more than true emotion. _Keep up. Suffer the cold alone. Come close to me on my terms. Watch your mouth, Cajun._ Rogue appeared more and more to her view as an emotionally maimed child seeking validation and adoration with equal intent from a man burdened by the terrible consequences of past actions. No compassion or understanding remained in her. Gambit awkwardly pushed the girl away more than once, she saw, taking no joy in the observation. Rogue's bitterness increased with the distance he enforced - still seemingly oblivious to the cruel irony of their situation - and her jibes became more piercing, each blow landed with devastating skill. While Gambit's actions became dangerously flip, his words charm-less and cold. The heart of the team divided with their discontent, even to Piotr's disgust and her own hidden sense of loss. 

She mourned silently. This was not like Remy; no longer the bright charmer, the honor-bound thief, the graceful acrobat she knew and loved. This was a clumsy, uncertain, broken man. Broken, perhaps, by the very attachment to Rogue that she had encouraged him to preserve. There was no time to think, to reconsider her past actions. Suddenly, they arrived at their goal. A sacred place carved laboriously from ancient glaciers and the remorseless rock of the Himalayas. A place once beautiful and serene yet now profaned by battle and death. For within the blue, gleaming ice halls of the reclusive Brotherhood of Ice's monastery, they found only the brutally mangled bodies of slain monks. Still they sought their goal, following the tracking device. Only to find no opposition, no evidence beyond the silent dead. 

Finally, they were left standing before a gleaming, innocent mirror-like barrier at the far end of the great entry hall. A mysterious and seemingly impenetrable wall. But one that rippled like water under Piotr's cautious touch. 

Sensing a trap, but still determined to find their mentor, they all agreed to pass through the wall. They had stepped through the looking glass together - Remy to her left, Piotr to her right, Rogue beyond the armored Russian - into a strange place of terror and fear. Cast adrift inside the impossible and terrible non-place - direction skewed, reality perverted - she still sensed him near. With her heart. And Remy was suffering terribly, seething visibly with pain and fear and despair, lost in memory. A strange green mist surrounded him; a mist he struggled against almost as if it were somehow alive and malign. 

Only Rogue, with her experience with other minds, other states of reality, seemed relatively unaffected. The young Southerner caught Piotr easily, grounding him, releasing his immobility. Laughing with disturbing ease at the rest of them. 

While she, the leader, fought against nausea and vertigo to reach her other teammate. Refusing to call him more. Using her contact with nature to summon a wind to bring her to Gambit's side - but something in the green mist surrounding him lashed out at her, forcing her harshly away, to the wall. She cried out in agony and reality resurged, allowing them to find each other briefly in the chaos. 

"Storm! You all right, chère?" Gambit called to her, recovering swiftly and moving to her side. She rose to her feet, shaking off her pain and his hands to focus on the mission. Not looking at him, not daring to look to see if she caused him pain with her rejection. But as they spoke as a team, gathering impressions, making a guess as to their predicament, reality exploded viciously into chaos about them again. 

She fell forward, into unimaginable pain and loss. Gambit beside her, curling into a ball of red and green flame again, his own power apparently consuming him along with the virulent green mist. She fought wildly against the sickeningly distorted sensations drowning her, her heart suffering more to see _him_ endure such pain. Then came the unexpected pressure of his arm against hers in the chaos. She reached out desperately, grabbing him tight, drawing him close. And he responded, eagerly, frantically, his hands closing hard around her arms. They stared at each other, feeling reality return in the small circle of their contact, the longing and need that passed in their gazes. The Goddess to the Thief. The Thief to the Goddess. Heart to heart. The flames dying, the pain fading. Finding that together they were strong, whole, real. She stared into his red-on-black eyes, her own eyes white with power. And understood. 

Then she cried out to the others, still the leader, only then seeing Rogue's astonished, devastated face illuminated with sudden clarity in the chaos beyond. 

". . . our hearts will persevere! Open your hearts, X-Men! Your emotions are the key!" 

And she leaned toward Remy, forgetting Rogue in her need, and kissed her love with all her heart and soul. His arms caught her to him, dragging her close, returning the caress as the last lingering green flames licking across his back, his hair, were driven off by the power of her embrace. Craving the feel of him against her, denied by his survival gear, but holding him close, close and savoring the heat of his mouth on hers, their breath mingled, their hearts in this moment beating as one. 

The green fire burned away from him with a last, faint wailing cry that vanished inexplicably into the surrounding nightmare. A sound of despair echoed by Rogue as she watched them in dawning horror, her fist in her mouth, her eyes wide and crystalline with utter loss. 

"No! No! NO!" the girl screamed and drove up into the air with all her fantastic strength, shattering non-reality around them all into cascading, vaporizing shards of mirror and ice and mist. 

Then she and Remy broke apart. Elated and astonished and flushed. Rogue hovered above, glaring hatred and pain and anger at them both. But beyond, lay their goal. And ever the leader, she rallied them, moving them past the awkward moment; Piotr's horrified shock, Rogue's vitriolic hatred, Remy's guilty tension. Her own joy and relief she buried. He had sought her as eagerly as she him! On, they had to press on, to find the one responsible; the strange little girl Nina and her guardian Renee. Then there was a brief revelation by the strange child with the wide, liquid black eyes that the chaos had not been to stop them, but to prevent the entry of the Cerebro Alpha monster. A hideous perversion of their own technology unleashed upon them by Bastion. 

The blue-glowing cybernetic creature burst upon them, intent on 'cataloging' them, on capturing Nina for her strange link to Charles Xavier. At her cry, the team functioned in battle as a whole, fighting desperately to save the girl. One by one they fell, first Rogue, reckless in her anger and frustration. Then Remy, still unsteady from the battle with chaos. The monster stood firm over the body of her love, limiting her effectiveness. Now Piotr - caught by the creature - attempted to slip from it's grasp by shifting his form from metal to flesh. But it somehow anticipated his move, wrapping implacable hands around his throat and slowly choking him to death. 

Her little brother, her secret love, her rival - her entire team. Down. Defeated. She alone fought on, hearing Piotr's wheezing breaths over the creature's incessant recitation of it's 'program objectives'. 

Then, incredibly, Rogue was revived and - flying at reckless speed in the close quarters of the destroyed monastery - severed the creature's arms, freeing Piotr. 

Listening to the monster's talk told her too much and yet too little, that it sought the child Nina as if she were some portion of Charles Xavier himself. She watched the disabled creature warily, discussing with her teammates possible modes of attack and it's motivation for attacking them as it re-assembled its limbs, hunched menacingly over Gambit's still form. Then she blanched in shock. 

". . .It is a mystery we will have to wait to solve - - by the Goddess! Gambit!" 

The ice under Remy was glowing bright pink with the distinctive signature of his mutant power. He lay grinning devilishly beneath the creature, awake once more, hands pressed to the ice. The monster lunged down, somehow sensing the danger, where before it had only been intent on self-repair. Not her cry, she begged silently. Had she warned it? 

"Gambit! Duck and roll!" she screamed, summoning forth with all the desperation and fear in her heart a great wind to sweep him out of the way. The charged ice exploded beneath the monster in a great heaving blast that rocked the cavern and sent the thing tumbling down into icy depths. 

She landed beside him, their teammates and the little girl and her guardian all rushing over as well. 

"Remy LeBeau! That was the most thick-headed, addle-brained stunt - -" she began, standing before him, hands fisted on her hips, her voice cracking with emotion. He sat splay-legged on the floor before her - shaken and weary, but alive. It took all her legendary control not to dive on top of him, hug him close and whisper prayers of thanks to the Goddess. 

"Had t' put on a good show for de _fillette_ wit' the pretty eyes, 'Ro. . ." he said with a trace of his old charm. The little girl Nina, clutching a bedraggled and worn stuffed rabbit by the ears, came up beside him and pointed a little mittened hand at him. 

"You're crazy, mister," the child said with all seriousness. Remy leaned calmly forward, casting Storm a warning look. She collected herself firmly. Rogue smoldered behind them, standing beside Piotr who had laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. The woman Renee looked between them uneasily, sensing the tension and dissent but not understanding the reason after seeing them work smoothly together in battle only moments before. 

"Maybe, but my friends call me Remy. You my friend, _chère_?" he asked, cupping the little girl's chin in his long clever hand and smiling gently at her. She melted instantly, smiling shyly back at him. 

"Yeah. . ." 

"Den tell me, _mon petite amie_ . . . what makes our crazed computer t'ink dat you're da Prof?" 

"Storm!" 

At Piotr's warning cry, they turned to see the monster clawing it's way up from the broken ice, it's incessant chatter preceding it. Rogue snatched up the child, Piotr the woman Renee, and she followed with a strong wind to speed them all, keeping a worried eye on the stumbling Gambit as they fled deeper into the monastery. 

They ran, taking the twisting paths through the carved ice, oblivious of the beauty both man-made and natural around them. They needed cover. They needed time to understand why this girl registered on their portable tracker as Charles Xavier. They needed a way to escape, but the known way out was blocked by the monster. 

They found a secluded room, finally, deep within the devastated monastery. A place to catch their breath, perhaps to plan. Her teammates secured the room, while she questioned the child, surprised by her intimate knowledge of them. Nina knew things that only Charles Xavier knew. But when she tried to scan the child with the portable tracker, Nina reacted badly - somehow making the small unit disappear in a flash of green light. 

"Goddess!" she cried as she fell back, her hands tingling with the same feeling she had endured inside the ice-mirror. Unreality. 

"Nina, no!" Renee shouted, lunging for the girl, hugging her tight. 

"'Roro!" Gambit shouted as well, seeing her clumsy fall. The others turned; Rogue hovering above as she watched from her place near the ceiling, guarding the high vents cut through the ice for air circulation. 

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Nina cried, huddling in Renee's arms. "I just don't want him to get me. . . I'm scared." 

Remy crouched beside her, a hand falling reassuringly on her shoulder. His touch warmed her, lifted her heart, her hopes. 

"Y' okay, Stormy?" he asked her gently. She shot him a stern look. Piotr stood beyond, his arms crossed disapprovingly across his massive metal chest. Suddenly, from above came a high scream of pain and fear. 

"Boshe moi! What is it doing to Rogue?" Colossus cried in shock, staring up. A glowing liquid - blue and shot with sparks and streaks of electricity - had surged through the air vents and enveloped the girl, covering her completely. She screamed and writhed in the air for an endless instant until the shrieks suddenly stopped. 

And in the silence they heard Rogue's voice, eerily altered to sound like the monster, ". . . Registrant Rogue eliminated." 

The child Nina began to sob in Renee's arms. She could only stare up in horror as their former teammate looked down at them, her body horribly altered to a living blue glow, metal growths arcing around her face. Remy swore under his breath beside her. 

"Impossible," she gasped. "The Cerebro creature has somehow bonded itself to Rogue!" 

Remy locked his hand on her shoulders and looked desperately into her eyes, then leaned over and kissed her hard. There was fear and the knowledge of possible death in his gaze. 

"Take de child an' fly, Stormy!" he said, shoving her toward the frightened little girl. For an instant she froze - she was the leader, not him. He reached into his coat for cards, waving her away with his other hand. 

"Colossus! You da only one who can stand up t' Rogue! Get ready!" 

"Da, Gambit!" 

"Cerebro Prime demands that you release the Xavier Manifest to me immediately. Comply. . . or all will be destroyed," the monster that had taken over Rogue bellowed down at them. Remy and Piotr spread out between the creature and her and the child. 

"Run, Stormy!" Gambit shouted at her. "We got y' back!" She turned, knowing he spoke the truth, her heart heavy as she snatched Nina out of Renee's arms. 

"Follow as you can," she said to Renee with quiet intensity, her own pain showing in her eyes. She would have to leave him behind to face the thing that had possessed Rogue. Renee swallowed hard and nodded. 

"You cannot win X-Men . . . we know everything about you. Please do not make us destroy you." The creature's voice echoed ominously off the ice. She ran. The little girl clutched desperately to her chest, Renee running bravely behind her. 

The creature screamed in outrage and she heard an echoing crash as the strength of Colossus sent an ice wall tumbling down atop their altered teammate. 

But once she reached the open, she summoned wind and she and the child lifted into the air. Looking back at Renee, she could see that the other woman was crying in fear, tears streaming down her face, but she was waving them on as well. Urging them to leave her behind. For the child's sake. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered, so softly that only Nina could hear. Then she flew on, racing through the icy hallways, searching for the sky and escape. Nina burrowed under her chin, shivering gently until she suddenly stiffened. 

"Oh, Gambit!" Nina cried. 

"No, Gambit is fine, child," she soothed, a desperate edge to her voice. He needed to be fine. "He and Piotr can take care of themselves." 

"No, Storm-lady, I felt him. . . he's hurt. . ." The girl shivered hard in her arms, the battered rabbit hugged tightly to her little face. "The monster made his cards blow up too soon. . ." 

'Oh, Goddess, not Remy,' she thought, but she flew on, flew away carrying the child to safety. It was her duty - to the child, to her fallen comrades, to Charles. But her heart, her heart was breaking. 

"An' Gambit. . .he doesn't see. . . Oh! Nooooo!" The girl's head flew back as she screamed out a denial. 

"What is it, child?!" she cried, staring down at the sobbing girl in her arms. Her strange liquid black eyes blinked heavy tears away. 

"He's just like the monks, Storm. . . a whole lot of hurt. . . then . . . nothing. He's gone. . . he's gone." 

"No!" she breathed. Tears welled in her own eyes, but she blinked them away and flew on, faster now. Knowing that if Remy had fallen, Piotr would be close behind. Rogue was too strong, and too fast, and Piotr would be reluctant to possibly harm Rogue. Nina stiffened again. 

"Oh, the nice metal-man! Oh, an' Renee! Hurry, Storm-lady!" 

"I cannot go any faster within these walls, child," she replied through gritted teeth. Pushing the winds, pushing herself. To dodge icy walls and low-hanging doors all the while coaxing the winds to speed and more speed. She was startled out of her fierce concentration when the child reached up and touched the tears streaming down her face. 

"But Storm . . . Charley says, 'It's over.'" 

She looked down at the little girl, eyes wide with shock and pain. "They are . . . gone?" 

"No. . . it's just over." 

Then she heard it, the high-pitched whistling scream of something approaching faster than her winds. She looked over her shoulder to see a brilliant flash of blue-white light, to hear the child shriek in her arms, then she was falling, falling into pain and blackness. Alone. 

* * * * * 

She woke to Kurt's quiet voice calling her name. But Kurt had gone to San Francisco with the other team. She sat bolt-upright in the medical bay of a strange jet, her heart thundering in her chest. She could feel the motion of the wind outside, telling her of their speed, their urgency. 

"Remy! Nina!" she cried. 

"Nein, Ororo, just the fuzzy-elf himself." 

"Kurt, where are they? Why are you here?" 

"They are, no doubt, in the hands of Cerebro even as we speak. And I came looking for your help - we were overrun in San Francisco as you were - but the Professor, Kitty, Logan. They are gone." 

"No, Kitten!" she breathed out in horror, staring into Kurt's sorrowful face. Then she lifted herself off the medical bed, shaken, but determined. Her love and her friends might be gone, but they would be avenged. Cerebro would fall. She would see to it herself. 

"Where are we?" she asked, her voice calm again, controlled. The pain would come later. 

"On the way to New Jersey," Kurt said, leading her out into the narrow main cabin. A shaken and stiff Piotr sat beside Renee, smiling at her encouragingly. They moved on to the cockpit. A restored Rogue sat at the controls, her face tight with concentration. The monster had abandoned them all once it had achieved it's objective. All of them save Gambit. He was gone. Kurt continued. "The tracking signals have converged in an old refinery there. We can only hope that . . . somehow they are still alive." 

"Then we must plan our strategy, my friend," she said, staring at Rogue thoughtfully. "We will not be defeated again." 

* * * * * 

They all bailed out of the plane over the building, leaving Renee to fly it as best she could. Rogue blasted at her full speed through the roof of the building, taking Cerebro by surprise. It was compensating, climbing free of the pit she had driven it into when Colossus, dropped by her at the top of her arc, slammed into it again, driving it further into the ground and buying them a brief opportunity to strike back. She followed with a blast of lightning, making the creature roar in outrage. Then, seeing from the corner of her eye the distinctive flash of Kurt's teleportation on top of one of many strange pod-like cocoons suspended around the building, she prepared to strike again. 

"Mein Gott! Inside is Kitty! And here, Logan! Storm, they are alive!" 

Her heart surged in her chest. There was hope then. But duty first. "The Professor? Nina?" 

"There!" Kurt called, teleporting closer to her. And they charged as a team, moving toward their teacher and mentor, determined to rescue him and the child and end this madness. Then in a flash, they were gone. 

"Primary command set. . . executed. X-Men scanned . . . catalogued . . . defeated," the Cerebro monster gloated. 

After all the pain, the fighting, and the searching the final battle occurred in the instant between one thought and the next. On an urgently whispered command, the child Nina reactivated the Professor's amazing talent. And Charles Xavier reached into the strangely sentient mind of his own computer program and simply . . . showed it what it wanted to see. As Cerebro believed it saw the X-Men fall, one by one, each a victim of the the infamous Xavier Protocols, little Nina walked about the chamber, her reality-altering gift opening one cocoon after another. 

The X-Men of both teams emerged, ready to fight, but stood quietly by, waiting for a sign from their teacher. He sat in the middle of the floor, alone save for the child Nina, gaze intent on the gleaming construct slumped before him. With a thought, he let it see reality. 

". . . Receiving conflicing data . . . your beloved X-Men are dead, and yet. . . you smile? Inconceivable." 

"You wanted me to get my mental powers back, monster . . . well have them I do," Charles Xavier said with a cool smile. Nina stood beside him, clutching her rabbit once again. She stuck her tounge out at the glowing form. "Bet you feel stupid now, don't you doodie-head?" the tiny girl said fiercely. 

"Well, dat's a rallyin' cry if ever I did hear one. . ." The amused words came from the far side of the room. Storm found her gaze drawn away from the strangely anti-climatctic battle of wills taking place before them to stare over into a solemn pair of red-on-black eyes. They gazed silently at each other for an endless moment until Xavier summoned all of them to destroy Cerebro's mobile units. Then they each whirled into action, separated by the flow of battle. 

But in the end, the malicious plans of Bastion's independent Cerebro abomination were defeated by the simple diversity of humanity. By each unique mind. It was simly too much for Cerebro to comprehend. 

She found ironic solace in that fact. Humanity had saved itself. 

The professor found, the enemy destroyed - they all returned to Westchester and the mansion. Her strange, extended family. Each of them exhausted by battle and long struggle, and longing for a brief period of peace. They needed a small chance to recover their energies and spirits. 

To their surprise, fate granted them that respite. The teams scattered about the mansion, each returning to mundane tasks interrupted by the urgency of their last mission. No crisis loomed. No villian threatened. They had time to breathe. She felt the need to feel the earth on her hands again. And to take time away from wild emotion: Rogue's blatant hostility, Piotr's puzzled concern, Remy's inexplicable absence. 

So she returned to her pansies in the garden. 

It was there he found her - serenely plucking the faded blossoms so the sturdy flowers would bloom again. He did not linger at the edge of the wood this time, but instead stalked up to her, eyes snapping, face set. He was dressed in combat garb, his dark eyes exposed, his posture tense. 

"Hiding, _henh_?" he said, catching her arm and spinning her around, his expression uncharacteristically angry. "What's wrong wit' you, Stormy? Nastiest fighter in da world. Dozens of us willing t' follow y' t'rough fire an' back - an' we just did. Y' fight for da Dream, but why won' y' fight for love, _mon amie_?" He glared at her. She met his gaze with a façade of calm, struggling to re-discover the ice that had protected her before. But it had all melted away in chaos and green fire and his kiss, never to return. She had no real defense against the angry accusation in his eyes. 

"You let me leave y' wit'out a word." He bit out each word like a curse. 

"It was not right for me to interfere. . . " she began, fighting her irritation at his presumption, but rage flared in his eyes. 

"So you let me go back t' her, to da one who messed me up in da first place? So's she could do it again?" 

"To resolve your issues. To give you the chance to regain what you had lost." 

"Got t' **have** it first t' lose it, _chère_," he growled at her, his accent thick and hard. She started violently. Had he heard her on that night so many long days ago? Her weakness? Her self-pitying words? "All dat was left 'tween Rogue an' me was habit an' baggage. Had t' learn dat for certain, s'pose, somewhere in all dat madness. But in da chaos, you found da answer wit' me! Even drove out my own personal ghost, y' did. But what 'bout you, _henh_? Not'ing for Stormy? No right t' love, t' care? Or are you jus' too afraid t' try?" His words were harsh, striking her like blows. She flinched, taking the pain silently, burying it as she had during that horrible day with Forge. 

And he paused, sensing her pain, her withdrawal in the stillness of her face, the rigidity of her body under his hands. He cursed under his breath in French. Then he continued, relentlessly, "Get off da goddess pedestal, 'Roro, 'cause I got news for you - y' just a woman, _chère_. Human underneath like de rest of us. Time you learn dat." 

Her eyes narrowed at him, her heart thundering in her chest. Hearing in his words only the echo of Forge's so long ago. Heralds of loss and pain. And in belated defense, her anger rose. "How dare you?" she said coldly. 

"Dare? Do you hear y'self sometimes?" he snapped back. "You forget, _chère_ - Remy's da one who saw a little girl who fought like a tiger 'gainst all odds wit'out control of her powers. Who ran wit' da girl-woman living life on da edge, for da thrill of it, enjoying it. An' den, few days ago, Remy saw dat same woman take a child in danger and run wit' her. Run to keep a little one safe an' t' hell wit' _pride_. Dat was da heart of da woman wit'out da goddess t' get in da way of caring, of loving. Let her go, 'Roro." 

"I see no reason to change my ways, Gambit," she said stiffly, fear and insult and pain a maelstrom inside her. Not hope. There was no hope to be found in the angry gleam of his red-on-black eyes, the lush twist of his mouth, his nimble hands clenched tightly on her shoulders. Or was there? 

"I got one," he vowed. Then he pulled her to him, his arms trapping her close. His mouth was on hers, his lips hot, seeking, demanding. She had no defense against his caress. Not when dreams and memories of his touch had tormented her for so long. She shuddered, surrendered, her arms winding around him in return. The kiss went on, filled with heat and desire, shattering the lingering chill in her soul. Until he pulled away, breathing hard, gaze intent and filled with longing and frustration and fear. 

"Somebody told me once dat love's not a burden. She was right. Love's a gift. Can't steal it, can't buy it - can only give it." He stared into her dazed eyes, his own gaze softening, his hands gentling their harsh hold on her. He let a smile touch his mouth then, and slowly spread until it lit up his whole face with wonder and joy and hope. 

"Dis here is my gift t' give - I love you, Ororo," he said gently, his heart glowing from his eyes. "An' I want y' t' be my wife." 

"Remy," she breathed, staggered by his words, scarcely daring to believe them. With an impish smile, he reached into a pocket and drew out a ring. Reddish-gold, but the band rippled like the captured flow of water, a dark red stone in the center, bracketed by two small diamonds. He lifted her dirty, plant-stained left hand, kissing her fingertips tenderly before he slipped the ring onto her third finger. A perfect fit. She could only blink foolishly at him, in surprise and disbelief. 

"Where you t'ink I been? Had t' get da perfect one. . ." he said quietly. Then he lifted his gaze to hers again. Something shown in his eyes, something warm and true. 

"Be my wife, 'Roro," he whispered again, folding her hand against his chest. She could feel his heart pounding fast and hard under her hand. No daydream. No illusion. Reality. Then he reached into another pocket and pulled out a battered and folded piece of paper, waving it briefly under her startled nose before tucking it away. "Got da license here - so y' know I'm serious. Get married tomorrow, if y' like. No waiting." 

"Married?" she gasped, then repeated with dazed wonder. "You would marry me tomorrow?" 

"_Absolutement_," he smiled gently, wrapping his arm around her, drawing her close, keeping her left hand over his heart. Then he sobered. "One condition, _chère_." 

Her heart dropped sickeningly in her chest, and she could feel the blood draining from her face. Fear spiked through her. He stared deeply into her eyes, searching, looking. 

"Tell me y' still love me?" he asked meekly, uncertainty showing for the first time through the cocky charm. For a moment, she was speechless, frozen. Then joy flooded her. 

"Bright Lady! Such a blatant ploy, my love!" she laughed, throwing her arms around his neck, feeling relief fill her as his arms closed tightly around her in return. "And I fell for it." His husky laughter joined hers, the mingled sounds swirling through the air around them making her giddy. She did not even realize her gift had carried them both into the air, over the mansion, and high up into the bright spring sunlight. 

He gazed down into her eyes, a grin plastered across his handsome face, trusting her to keep them both safe, his duster billowing around them in the wind, her hair streaming behind like a banner, their legs entwined. 

"Dat's a yes?" he grinned like a little boy who knew he should be scolded but wouldn't be. Scoundrel. Tease. Beloved. 

"I should torment you longer for that," she smiled, her heart full at last, her eyes glittering with tears. 

"Torture, more like, woman," he mock-growled, his own eyes gleaming in the bright sunshine. "Say da words 'gain, 'Roro. No more teasing. Do y' still love me?" 

"Yes! Yes! And yes again, my love," she shouted - laughing, crying all at the same time. Joy overflowing in her heart, the wind swirling warm about them, the sky shimmering endless pale blue above. 

"Love you, 'Roro," he said again. She wound her fingers through his silky hair, drawing him closer still and breathing her reply against his beautiful, smiling mouth. 

"And, oh, how I love you, Remy LeBeau!" 

- - on to *Epilogue* - -


	6. Epilogue

Expiation: Epilogue by paxnirvana  Format for use with submitting fanfic. Expiation: Epilogue _The Goddess No Longer_ by paxnirvana 
    
    Rating: PG-13
    Pairing: Storm/Gambit
    Archive: Okay. Just ask!

Author's Note: The end of my little AU wandering. Really need to read the first five first. 6/14/01 

Disclaimer: They all still belong to Marvel. But I like what I do with them better. Trial of Gambit? Dumb. Me make money? Even dumber. 

* * * * *
    
    Just one step at a time
    And we're closer to destiny
    I knew at a glance
    There'd always be the chance for me
    With someone I could live for
    There's nowhere I would rather be
    - Brian Ferry

* * * * *

A year. Bright Lady, has it truly been so long? But, yes, the pansies I myself planted are flowering all over the grounds, the daffodils opening their bright trumpets to herald the new season, the early crocus already fading. It has truly been a year since he broke the icy shell I had imposed about my heart. Full of bickering and laughter and adjustment and joy, wrapped around the always uncertain life of the X-Men. A year of battle and tragedy and triumph and discovery. A complete revolution of our mother the Earth around her consort, the sun, bright and life-giving and constant, back to spring again. 

Do I tell him today? 

It is hard, so hard, to keep my hand away from my belly. Too soon. Far too soon to show, to even be absolutely certain. But I know my body as surely as I know the patterns of ebb and flow that make up the weather above us, the seasons themselves. There is a change in me - one I have longed for, and that we have so pleasurably striven for these last weeks. To grow round and large and ungainly. With his child. The child of our love. The child of our hope. And there must be a new generation, a reaching out to hope and the future, or why else do we fight for the Dream? 

He bluffed me. Gambit. The gambler. On that one calm day between horrible battles a year ago. He asked me to marry him, claiming a license in hand. He didn't have one. Only blind hope and a beautiful ring I will never ask the provenance of. Circumstance has prevented our official union. But it is only a ceremony. In our hearts we are already irrevocably bound. All who see us together now know it. 

The team was uncertain at first, wary. But we are adults and if some thought us foolish and doomed, most had the grace to keep it to themselves. We have assuaged their doubts. Rogue, sad child, left the team unable to bear our happiness, making the move to the Massachusetts Academy to concentrate on learning to control her powers. Emma Frost has reported she is making great strides. The loss of first Remy and then Joseph has apparently given Rogue new strength of purpose. I wish her well, but am glad she chose to leave. For her sake - and Remy's - as well as the team's. 

Despite her departure, at first he was reluctant to move back into the mansion, but I insisted. Who would keep me from falling back into my aloof, remote ways if he was not there to constantly ward me against that folly? Truly, it did not take too much persuasion. And he fit into my attic, my life, my heart so easily I was ashamed it had taken us so long to find each other, and, for a brief while, was resentful of the time lost. That quickly passed, with his encouragement. Remy, more than anyone, knew the peril of drowning in regret. 

He insisted on adding a few pieces of art to the walls, some furniture; an antique bureau, a lovely wooden trunk and an elegant rocking chair. Then there was the bed. An enormous canopied bed. Dark wood carved by the finest of artisans of several centuries ago and curtained in the sheerest of blue silks, decadent and luxurious. A thing flown up at great expense from New Orleans. A dynasty-founding bed. And a gift from his father. I smile to lie in it with him, and listen to the steady beat of his heart, my winds moving the silk around us like a waterfall. 

There were also the scattered packs of cards he left on every flat surface, the thieves' tools stored with meticulous care in that wooden trunk, the boots he often left lying haphazardly in the center of the floor. He is not messy, but his presence in my attic, that bed, my heart changed everything. I was no longer alone. 

Then, the cigarettes. I had not even had to ask. He gave them up cold. Snappish and irritable for a month or two, then grudgingly conscious of the marked increase in his stamina. Stamina I was gleefully determined to tax at every opportunity. Our teammates learned to call to us from the bottom of the stairs before entering our attic. Free of bodily inhibitions as we both are, we shocked several of them before they learned that caution. 

I laugh and smile more now than I have my whole life before. Perhaps that alone brings me melancholy when I think of the time lost that can never be regained. Serious and responsible does not mean joyless. He has brought joy back into my life with his gentle teasing, his blatant affection, his steadfast love. The crimson eyes burn only for me. For him, there is the belonging, the connection, the absolute trust he has always craved. My heart has flowered for him. 

Yet we make a fearsome team in battle. Our understanding of each other's abilities has grown with our understanding of each other. The fear that I would not be able to order him into hazard in battle has faded. I am leader still. He is a fighter, a thief, an X-Man. We both know and accept the risks; we both fight for the Dream. Our love binds us and frees us in ways we never expected. 

The Windrider and the acrobat. The pickpocket and the Master Thief. Team leader and teammate. Woman and man. 

Yes, just woman. 

For with him beside me, I need be the Goddess no longer. 

- - fin - -


End file.
